Chapter 4 #3
Jesse left, but Caleb didn’t start his chores right away. One of his favorite things about meeting Jesse was that the man hadn’t known him growing up.
A town like Moore was still small enough to remember all his antics.
Maybe “antics” wasn’t the right word. People still laughed about the time he and Justin rode horse through a drive-thru to get a couple of burgers.
Or when he’d leapt barbed wire fences to outrun the cops busting their bonfire.
People still brought up the way he and a few firemen buddies had decked out their coworker’s car with streamers and a tin can tail a hundred feet long on his wedding night.
Those were antics, and the town chuckled over them.
It was the strikes against him personally, like getting held back in first grade, that Moore never let anyone forget.
They didn’t pass kids who missed half the school year out “sick.” When Social Services had pounded on the door, he’d gone to stay with Grandma, but the scholastic damage had been done.
Kids had long memories, and it was constantly pointed out that he should’ve been further along. Nor had kids been the only ones to say so. Joan Walker had brought up the fact at least once a year, often around Justin’s birthday.
Oh that’s right, you’re a year older than Justin. I keep forgetting.
Caleb hadn’t been allowed to forget. And Joan wasn’t the only one who’d mentioned it over the years. Being held back shouldn’t have been held against him. Kids got held back for all sorts of reasons.
He shook himself out of his own head and wandered out of the shop and across the round gravel drive.
As he stared at the spot his future would be built on, he pictured the type of home he’d build.
A giant house had never been his dream. No, his was a stable home—both in structure and livability.
The builders he’d talked to had tried to convince him that one level was fine; then he could afford more amenities.
Was he being unreasonable to want a modern version of his grandparents’ place? An homage to them, yes, but also a promise to himself that once he drove up and stepped inside, he wasn’t going to be yanked back out.
Brigit’s finger hovered over the “learn more” button of the job opening. She sighed and closed the tab. After three days, she knew every position she was qualified for in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area. And she’d only applied for three of them.
Each time she passed over an opening, she’d come up with valid reasons.
Too far from home. Too low of a wage for the hours demanded.
Poor benefits. If Mom were here, she’d say not to expect to step through the door and earn the same as someone there for twenty years.
Then in the next breath, she’d command Brigit not to settle for anything less than being a CEO.
She didn’t need to start at the top, but upward mobility was a necessity. How long had she heard that she shouldn’t settle for less and never ever block herself into a job going nowhere?
That advice had come from Dad. Look at me, kiddo.
I might be my own boss, but my raises are at the mercy of Mother Nature and she can be fickle.
Find a place with a good reputation that allows you to grow.
Yet he’d raised two boys who’d gone out into the world and come right back because this was where they wanted to be.
The focus was on her. Did they realize it? Once Travis had come home and taken over as one of the Walker Five, Mom had upped her inquiries. How’s school going? Did you hit the dean’s list again? Are you thinking about a graduate program?
Then Justin had moved home from Denver. Their second prodigal son, a sheep rancher.
The questions had increased yet again. Half the reason Mom loved Oliver so much was that Brigit could concentrate on graduate school while Oliver…paid attention to other women, apparently.
Three jobs. That was enough. She wanted to run through weekend chores with Justin so they didn’t double up.
Offering to do his books had landed her a big “No. Got it taken care of.” He probably didn’t want her to learn the real reasons he was running back to Denver.
He claimed he was wrapping up deals he’d started, unwilling to let his old company and clients down, and that might be true, but she wouldn’t be surprised if one of the “deals” he wanted to close was a woman.
How did he manage such a level of privacy when Mom and Dad could pester her until she was listing every grocery run she’d been on and how it contributed toward her educational goals and study time?
Closing her laptop, she scooted off the bed and tiptoed to her bedroom door. Caleb had gotten home that morning and been gone all day. What was he spending his Friday doing?
The upper level was quiet. Giving herself a quick once-over, she adjusted her knit sweater before rolling her eyes. Caleb had seen her in pajamas and shit-covered jeans. He wasn’t lusting after her when he was around.
She fiddled with the hem of her sweater. The lilac color was her favorite. Not long ago, she’d had her hair dyed the same shade. She’d loved it, but when it came time to interview for jobs, she’d made sure to go back to her natural color, followed by highlights. Look the part and all that.
This pair of jeans was clean. Justin hadn’t had much work for her to do, which was good. It forced her to job hunt instead of wandering around outside finding tasks to perform, like checking the battery connections on the side-by-side that had decided to quit running.
Her stomach rumbled. She’d made a sandwich for lunch, but sitting in classes didn’t inspire her appetite like tromping through the barns and pastures. And she didn’t have Oliver subtly questioning how often and what she ate.
She puffed a strand of hair out of her face.
How had she not smothered Oliver in his sleep?
Was it guilt because he’d paid the bills while she’d gone to school?
He hadn’t helped with tuition or books, and she’d done all the housework and grocery shopping.
She’d “taken care of him” in exchange for what?
For paying the utility bills and for food—that she shopped for and cooked?
This time on her own was good for her. And the reason why she wasn’t applying for work that didn’t resonate with her.
Not that the three jobs she’d put in for inspired a hint of a thrill. At least she could cuddle barn cats while waiting to hear back.
She went downstairs and stalled at the bottom. Male voices drifted from the kitchen. Her pulse kicked up. Was Caleb home?
She listened. Yes, he and Justin were chatting. She glanced back up the stairs. No. Avoiding Caleb wasn’t the answer to getting over him. If she could make it through being roommates with him, then she’d know she’d done the right thing all those years ago.
Because breaking things off with him had never felt right.
He was Moore to his bones. There was no way he would’ve left his grandparents for her.
And no matter how aimless his mother was, she managed to stop back in Moore regularly to cause a ruckus and leave again.
That was probably half the reason Caleb had never moved.
Would his mom bother visiting him in another town?
Had she bothered coming back to Moore once her own mother died?
Forcing herself to move, she walked into the kitchen. The smell of bacon grew stronger the closer she got.
Caleb was at the stove. Her bachelor brother had survived off takeout and delivery in Denver. Not an option in Moore. What’d he done before Caleb moved in?
“Mac and cheese,” Caleb said. She had planted her gaze on the pot to avoid gaping at how good he looked.
He must’ve worn a hat all day. He’d brushed his dark, silky strands off his head, but they wanted to settle back into hat head.
She liked way too much how his hair hugged his scalp and accentuated the cut of his jaw and the high cheekbones.
He leaned against the counter as he stirred, his legs kicked out and his boots crossed.
“Homemade too,” Justin added, the awe clear in his voice. Anyone who thought Caleb was taking advantage of Justin needed to witness this interaction. Justin kept peeking into the saucepan and shuffling his feet like a caged tiger at feeding time.
A mound of bacon sat next to the stove. She couldn’t believe it had survived Justin’s presence. “Mac and cheese with bacon?” It sounded good, delicious even, but she was born and raised in a ranching family. A meal was made around the meat, not the noodles.
“He mixed in grilled chicken. The bacon bits are on the side.” Justin’s smile reminded her of Christmas morning. He’d always had a hard time being patient.
“It’s popular at work,” Caleb said, taking the pan off the stove. “All done.”
She helped Justin dig the plates and forks out.
Caleb dished the food onto their plates, cheese strands stretching long.
Her mouth watered, and her breath hitched when he got to her plate.
Whenever she and Oliver had been at a buffet or potluck, he’d grabbed her the smallest slice of anything.
Or his plate would have a generous serving while hers had a scant teaspoon.
Caleb spooned just as much, even more, on hers than the other two. Then he piled more bacon on top. The corner of his mouth tipped up and her belly flipped. That was Caleb. The smallest gestures had always made her feel the most accepted.
“I’d say the recipe is secret, but I just throw shit together,” he said.
They carried their food to the dining room. It was the first time the three of them had sat down together for a meal. They were usually like three balls in motion, bouncing around each other and rolling through the house for meals and sleep.
“This needs a beer,” Justin announced, turning back to the kitchen. “Bridge?”